


Film Me Like One Of Your Orlesian Girls

by ContreParry



Series: Soulmate AU Collection [2]
Category: Dragon Age, Dragon Age II
Genre: Anonymity, Background Relationships, Gen, Hurt/Comfort, M/M, Modern Thedas, Nude Modeling, Soulmate-Identifying Marks
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-05-28
Updated: 2017-06-07
Packaged: 2018-11-05 20:59:22
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 2
Words: 13,791
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/11021493
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/ContreParry/pseuds/ContreParry
Summary: Little_Kitten_Mage is a niche model on the internet known for his tasteful nude self portraits and excellent wardrobe. One day Little_Kitten_Mage releases a picture in which his soul mark is visible, and for one lucky admirer the soulmate search begins.





	1. Chapter 1

Fenris stumbled upon the pictures while doing research.

That is what it was, despite Hawke’s snickering and Isabela’s prying. Looking at porn was personal research. He spent his formative years and sexual awakening under the thumb of an abusive monster who took advantage of his youth and naivety, who tried to scratch away his soul mark and make Fenris his for all time. But he was gone now, and now that Fenris was free from his toxic influence he could do as he pleased. He let his hair grow out, he wore whatever clothing he liked, he gave his opinion as he pleased, he stared at his unbroken soulmark and grinned in triumph, and it was good. Now Fenris wanted to reclaim his sexuality. He had to be ready for his soulmate. It didn’t matter that, statistically speaking, finding a soulmate was rare. Even with matching agencies and government bureaus devoted to finding soulmates, finding the person (or people) who shared your mark was not easy. But Fenris could not throw away that romantic vision he had of finding his soulmate, and he was determined to prove himself worthy of their affection. He would not give his partner in life someone tainted. So Fenris thought about his sexuality, his preferences, and he did his research.

He knew he was bisexual. His attraction to Hawke’s beard and Sebastian’s blue eyes was as strong as his appreciation of Isabela’s lush curves and Merrill’s delicate frame. But he did not know his preferences. He was cursed because his friends were all attractive, and he could not distinguish what he enjoyed more. He needed an outsider to ogle, but he hated staring at strangers on the street. He would look at others sometimes, but he could not muster any particular feeling beyond vague admiration for anyone’s physical features. His downstairs neighbor with the long black hair in a braid and the sweet round face was pretty, but Fenris could not muster any further feelings of attraction towards her. There was the man in the apartment across the street, and while he was handsome with his blonde curls and strong jaw he simply looked too tired all the time. The woman with the purple lipstick and yellow eyes who sometimes drank at Isabela’s bar inspired more fear than sexual admiration, and the man who jogged past the apartment every morning with his mabari pack at his heels was… well he was a handsome fool. 

Fenris worried that he would have the same lukewarm reaction towards his soulmate that he did to the people he saw in his daily life. Would he ever be able to kiss his downstairs neighbor if she happened to be his soulmate? Could he stare into the eyes of that woman with the purple lipstick if they were tied together? What about the man across the street? Could Fenris run his fingers through his hair and feel at peace with the world? Would he be able to hold hands with the man who jogged past every morning as they walked a pack of mabari together? Fenris did not know, and the uncertainty was destroying him.

Fenris tried to muster up some attraction for Isabela. She was always up for a fling, and would be more than willing to help him explore and conquer his insecurities. Yet in the end she was more like family than bed partner, and Fenris could not muster up the will to try and touch her beyond friendly pats and hugs. It seemed hopeless. Fenris was going to forever be stuck in a loop of pondering over the concept of lust and fearing that he would not find his soulmate attractive.

But then Fenris found him.

Little_Kitten_Mage was not exactly what Fenris would normally search for, especially when looking for porn. Mages? He lived in Tevinter. Thousands of years of oppression by mages and magic did not disappear overnight, and he was wary. Wounds do not heal in a day.

But Fenris typed in a few words (blonde, male, tall, freckles, stockings) into the search bar, and Grimoire did the rest. Little_Kitten_Mage’s site popped up in the search engine, Fenris clicked on it, and the first image burned itself into his brain. He could not look away.

Little_Kitten_Mage was sprawled out on a bed. The covers were Warden blue, and he wore a capelet of black feathers around his shoulders. His arm was flung over his face, blocking it from view, but his neck was exposed and tendrils of beautiful blonde hair spread across the sheets like golden silk threads. His skin was pale and dotted with freckles, and he was lean and muscled and tall. His chest was dusted with golden hair, trailing down his stomach to his groin. His cock was out, laying on his stomach and fasta vass, Fenris did not think anyone could make a cock look good but it was a work of art. The man wore tights, thigh high black nylon stockings that gripped his thighs, and a pink flush danced from his thighs to his cock up to his chest, and he was perfect. So perfect.

What would it be like, to touch that cock? What would his hair feel like in Fenris’s fingers? What would his voice sound like, when Fenris set to work to make him moan and wriggle and come to life on those blue sheets? Fenris’s smalls were too tight, and he found himself dropping them and finding some relief with his hand.

After one of the quickest orgasms of his life, Fenris quickly took stock of everything he found attractive in the picture for research purposes (and it was research, no matter how much Hawke mocked or Varric sniggered). Was it the pose? The clothing? The way the light played on the man’s skin? No, Fenris decided, it was in the gentle curve of his leg, the flush to the skin, the way the model commanded attention. Look at me, look at me, look at me. Fenris could not look away.

So he kept looking. He never stopped.

“Fenris, how have you been?” Sebastian asked warmly. They sat in his small office in the Chantry, drinking tea and chewing on tougher than average tea biscuits. The biscuits were a gift from a parishioner, an elderly woman with no family close by and a great affection for the young priest. Her cut flowers from her garden were a welcome gift to the Chantry services. The overbaked biscuits were less welcome, but Sebastian was too kind to toss them out.

“Well enough, Sebastian.” Fenris said politely as he dunked the biscuit into his tea to try and soften it. It crumbled into his mug.

“How is your work?” Sebastian asked politely as he fetched Fenris a fresh mug of tea.

“Playing bouncer and bartender at Isabela’s is entertaining. I work most nights, but she lets me take off Mondays and the occasional Friday.” Fenris explained as he took the mug in hand. He did not elaborate on why he needed his Monday nights off. Sebastian did not need to know that Little_Kitten_Mage released some of his best photographs on Mondays, and Fenris was not a patient man. He could not wait until three in the morning to gaze longingly at the pictures Little_Kitten_Mage posted on his site.

“Has Isabela been a bother? She can be pushy at times.” Sebastian said. He never elaborated on how he met Isabela, but he seemed to know her well. Well enough that sometimes a look between the two of them communicated more than words ever could.

“She has treated me well and does not push too much.” Fenris replied. “Though I do have questions that I am reluctant to ask her. Questions I would rather ask you.”

“Ah. What sort of questions?” Sebastian asked. He handed the fresh tea mug to Fenris, who clasped it in his hands. It was almost too hot to touch.

“Questions about sexual attraction.” Fenris said bluntly. “Varric starts poking at the issue and Isabela would get hands on.” Aveline would stammer, he didn’t know her husband Donnic well enough to ask, Hawke would make too many jokes, and Merrill would start asking too many technical questions. Sebastian would be honest and patient, and it was what Fenris needed. Honesty and patience.

“It is… I wish to reclaim myself. I will not be Danarius’s dog any longer.” Fenris explained. “And I have done much to establish myself.”

“You’re reading at a high level now, and your penmanship excels mine.” Sebastian said warmly, and it made Fenris’s heart dance. Improvement. He would not always be a bartender and bodyguard. He could change.

“But not Hawke’s.” Fenris grumbled. It was a sore spot, to still have so much further to go before he reached perfection. His handwriting was neat enough, but Hawke’s was beautiful.

“Hawke’s mother drilled it into him when he a boy.” Sebastian explained. “It is a rare hand who writes better than Hawke.”

“But I… it is not enough.” Fenris said. “My body is… everything was made to fit him, but I want it to fit me. I want… I want to discover what I want in a partner. What I find attractive.” He knew his reaction to those photographs were strong, almost primal, but Fenris wanted to know it was because he wanted it, not because he was conditioned to find human men with magic attractive. It needed to be his choice.

Sebastian’s patient gaze warmed with sympathy. “Of course, Fenris. It is natural and healthy to want to know yourself. What do you wish to ask me?”

“I’d like some suggestions. What do you think is most helpful?”

So he and Sebastian talked until it was time for evening services. They spoke of attraction, of what Fenris valued in appearances, of what mattered most to him. Fenris did not have all the answers, but Sebastian assured him that it was not uncommon to not know. He encouraged Fenris to think on it. Finally, as the sun was slowly setting over the city, Fenris took his leave. Sebastian tried to persuade him to sit through one service, but Fenris refused. Fenris returned to his small apartment that night after work and scrolled through the pictures Little_Kitten_Mage put up on his blog. They were all tasteful pictures, taken with great care and beautiful lighting. He read the short descriptions under the photos as he scrolled and fumbled around his kitchen for something to eat.

“Rainy day, but not so bad when you can make it a lazy day inside!” The caption said under a photo of Kitten Mage’s long pale legs dangling over the arm of an armchair. The pale light formed an aureole around his legs like the halos that crowned the heads of saints in the Chantry. Fenris would worship at a church dedicated to Kitten Mage’s legs. They were fine legs.

“Busy day at work, but I got a new outfit to show off!” That was the caption under a picture of Kitten Mage in a dark green babydoll chemise and matching pair of smalls. They were divine against his freckled skin and golden hair.

“So much sunshine this morning!” Another caption announced. The picture it accompanied was one of a barefoot, bare legged Kitten Mage staring out a window. His back was turned to the camera, and a baggy cream sweater covered his torso. The round curve of his ass barely peeked out from under the end of the sweater.

They were beautiful pictures, and Little_Kitten_Mage was a beautiful man. Fenris was happy he could appreciate that beauty. He was pleased that he could feel attraction. He looked at other pictures of different models, friends of Kitten Mage who also had their photos taken, but the little coils of lust never hit quite as hard as it did when he gazed upon Little_Kitten_Mage’s form. But the lust was still there, much to his relief. Fenris found the model pleasing, but he still found other people attractive and desirable. Danarius did not kill this part of him. It was Fenris’s once again.

-

“So you discovered porn. Fantastic.” Carver grumbled as he readjusted the weights on his dumbbells. Fenris rolled his eyes and stretched out on the yoga mat he placed near Carver’s bench. Carver was a better workout partner than his brother. Carver didn’t try to bench press more than he could handle and injure himself. Carver was reasonable.

“It is not porn.” Fenris sniffed. “They are artistic experimental photographs of the male form.”

“So fancy porn.” Carver retorted. “At least you’re figuring that shit out. Spot me.”

“Fine.” Fenris stood up and kept a close eye on Carver as he bench pressed. “Going for repetitions this time?”

“Yeah.” Carver grunted as he lifted the weights. “Cutting it short, though.”

“Why?” Fenris asked as he silently counted reps in his head. Carver loved his time at the gym. It was his way of unwinding after his work with the Templars. In the old days Templars were guards who kept watch over mages, but they were now a security force that specialized in rogue magic and mage immigration. Carver’s days were filled with tracking down reports of blood magic and demon hunting with other Templars and a specialized group of mages. From what little he said, it was exhausting work mentally and physically. He liked his down time.

Talking about Carver’s work was a sore point between all three Hawke siblings, so Fenris never brought it up. He always wondered why Carver became a Templar when his siblings were both mages. Carver never explained, so Fenris never pried. But he always wondered.

“I’ve got to get up early tomorrow. Picking my soulmate up from the airport.” Carver replied after he hit fifty reps. He set his weights down and sat up on the bench. His dark hair was sweaty and falling into his big blue eyes. Fenris handed him a towel and tried not to laugh when Carver shook his head like a mabari hound.

“You found them?” Fenris asked. “How?”

“Well, it’s, ah.” Carver mumbled as his cheeks flushed a bright pink. “I went to an agency last year, and earlier this year they found my match, so we’ve been talking. He came to Kirkwall on a trip and wants to meet up. Get to know each other.”

“You're planning to go by yourself? That hardly sounds wise.” Fenris remarked. Carver was a big man, and he was trained to defend himself. But meeting a stranger who claimed to be a soulmate was… well, Fenris would be wary. He knew much of his wariness stemmed from his fear of capture by Danarius, the nightmares that the man would rise from the dead and drag him back to Tevinter. It was foolish, perhaps, but the fear lingered.

“Maker, not you too.” Carver groaned. “Garrett already scolded me, and Cullen too. I don’t need to hear it from you, Fenris!”

“If your brother scolded you then you’re clearly doing something foolish.” Fenris said. He bent down and rolled up his yoga mat. He got enough cardio from jumping rope, the yoga was a cool down.

“Felix is perfectly safe! We chat face to face on Eluvian every night!” Carver exclaimed. “And I’m not an idiot! We’re meeting in public and I know Garrett’s going to follow me because he’s obnoxious and no one denies him anything.” But Fenris focused on the name. Felix.

“Felix. I suppose he’s from Tevinter, then.” Fenris remarked, offering a hand to help Carver stand. “I would say be careful, but you know that already.”

“He’s not a mage. Well, he is, but he says he’s so weak he can barely summon a flame to light a cigarette.” Carver explained. “He’s a scientist, and the Magisterium pretends he doesn’t exist. His parents are both Magisters. They paid for his passports so he can live and study in Orlais.”

“I’m surprised he wasn’t killed.” Fenris said. “The families of the Magisterium do not take kindly to weakness.” He knew that well, and he found himself pitying this Felix. He would have lived a dangerous life, despite his money and prestige as an Altus. Fenris wondered how fate, or whatever it was, pulled two people together when they came from such different worlds.

“He doesn’t like to talk about it.” Carver muttered. “Just- I hope I can do something to help. You know, make it easier for him.”

“You’re a good man, Carver.” Fenris said. “Anyone would be lucky to have you as their partner.” He was rough around the edges, but Carver was a decent man. Loyal and tough and kind when it mattered.

“Thanks. We weren’t sure if we should meet at first, but he’s in town and I have the day off so-” Carver shrugged and ducked his head, but he couldn’t hide his smile. “So we planned a day out. I thought we should get to know each other better before making any hasty decisions.”

“That’s… very thoughtful, Carver.” Fenris replied.

“I’m not a complete blockhead.” Carver said. He sounded very pleased, a little bit of his brother’s boastful nature peering through. Perhaps it was from their father. Leandra wasn’t like that at all.

“Be sure to shower and dress in something that you haven’t cut the sleeves off of.” Fenris teased, and Carver punched his arm in response as they walked to the locker room. “Your boss can’t be thrilled.”

“Cullen?” Carver shook his head. “Yeah, he was pissed when he found out. I mean, Vint and Templar? Together? But he can deal. We’re still dealing with the mess Meredith left behind, he has enough on his plate.”

“I wish you luck, then.” Fenris replied. “I hope you two enjoy yourselves.”

“Thanks. Hope you enjoy your fancy porn.” Carver shot back.

“They are artistic photographs and they are part of my research.” Fenris said, but he allowed himself a small smile. “And I do enjoy it.”

Fenris returned to his fancy porn, as Carver so eloquently called it, later that night after work. It was a quiet night, as most Wednesdays were, but his pockets were full from the substantial tips given to him by his neighbor across the street who drank his dark stouts and stared at the soulmark on his wrist all evening. He stared as if the thin band of elfroot green vines around his wrist could unlock the mysteries of the world, and Fenris wondered if it could. But he didn’t ask. He gave the man another beer.

So when he returned to his apartment and stared at his computer screen, Fenris took a moment to wonder about his soulmate. He touched the spot right above his heart, where a pale blue cat crouched, ready to pounce. Danarius tried to erase it, but its lines could not be broken. The cat remained whole over his scarred skin. And somewhere in the world, someone had his match. Just like Carver had his Felix and his neighbor had a partner with a vine around their right wrist. Fenris could only hope that his partner would wait for him. He let his eyes wander on Little_Kitten_Mage’s page, where the photo displayed his long lean legs wearing strappy black heels.

“Shoes that make me feel like an #Apostitute! Makes my calves look gorgeous though.” The caption said, and Fenris muffled a snort of laughter. Apostitute. That was the sort of thing Isabela would say. Fenris knew he did not seem the type, but he enjoyed silly wordplay and puns. He especially enjoyed irreverent humor. Apostitute. He would have to share that. He went to bed with a smile on his face.

Fenris headed down the stairwell the next morning and nearly ran into a tower of wobbling boxes. His hands shot out to steady the boxes and keep them from spilling down the stairs. The small, slender hands holding the boxes twitched slightly.

“Andraste’s Tits!” A woman cursed, her voice ringing clear in the stairwell. “Are you alright?”

“I’m fine. What level do you need to go to?” Fenris asked as he helped the woman reach a landing and set the boxes down. It was his downstairs neighbor, the one with the round face and long dark hair. Her hair was falling out of her braid and her cheeks were flushed, but she grinned up at Fenris and waved hello.

“Just one level up.” She said. “It’s the last of them, I thought I could get the last few up on my own. Stupid of me.”

“I can help you carry them.” Fenris offered, and his neighbor smiled.

“Thanks.” She replied. “You take those two, I take these. It’s room 326.” Fenris raised an eyebrow, because 324 was his apartment number and 326 had been empty for a long time. He had no idea someone was moving in. He picked up the boxes and carried them up the stairs.

“A friend of a friend is moving in soon, so I offered to help him settle in.” She explained as they walked. “He sent most of what he has, and I promised to set up the basics. I thought I could carry this last load up by myself but obviously not.”

“I did not realize I would have a new neighbor.” Fenris remarked as the woman balanced her stack of boxes on her hip and unlocked the apartment door.

“I thought you looked familiar. I’m in 222, you’ve probably seen my cat sunning on my balcony.” The woman explained cheerfully. She set her boxes down in the kitchen, and Fenris set his down next to them.

“The black one, with the green eyes.” Fenris said. He recognized the cat, who often held staring contests with him in the morning. Fenris always lost.

“That’s Blackberry!” The woman said. “Thanks for your help, um…”

“Fenris.” Fenris offered.

“Evelyn.” Evelyn replied, and she held out her right hand. Her beaten copper cuff bracelet slid off her slender wrist, revealing a pale green vine that wrapped around her golden dark skin. A match to their neighbor across the street who was drowning his sorrows in the bottle last night. Should he say something? How mad would he sound if he told Evelyn “By the way, your soulmate lives across the street and he was drinking at my bar last night. He likes dark stouts. Do you know him yet?”

He would sound extremely mad. Fenris did not know what to say. He said nothing.

“I’m sure you’ve got things to do, and I have to unpack, but I’ll see you around!” Evelyn waved, and Fenris retreated out of the apartment. He sat in a cafe with a cup of coffee and an omelet and stared out the window. That vine around the wrist of both his neighbors, a circle that did not begin or end. A green, growing soulmark. What a lucky mark, Fenris thought with a bit of jealousy in his heart. It seemed everyone was slowly circling around and finding their soulmates. Everyone but him.

He wasn’t ready yet. He needed more time. But he wanted. He wanted that connection so much.

“Didn’t think I’d find you here, Fenris!” A voice exclaimed, and another cup of coffee and plate of food joined his on the table. “Didn’t know you ate.”

“Varric.” Fenris replied. “What are you up to?”

“Nothing much. Talked with Hawke. Heard about the Little Hawke yet?” Varric asked. “Carver, not Sunshine.”

“Carver told me he was going on a date with his soulmate.” Fenris replied, and hoped it was just enough information to keep Varric from prying further. But it was Varric, and Varric never stopped gossiping.

“Yeah. Hawke and I kept an eye on them.” Varric said. “Disgustingly cute. They held hands and stared into each other’s eyes all night.”

Fenris half listened to Varric’s chatter and began to scroll through his phone. On a whim, his fingers working on muscle memory, he went to Little_Kitten_Mage’s blog. The photo at the top made him nearly choke on his coffee.

“Oh, there’s the fancy porn you’re ogling? Pretty nice for a guy. Not my thing, but it does have some artistic merit.” Varric remarked as he peered over. “Is that a tattoo or a mark, you think?”

“Mark.” Fenris managed to say past the lump in his throat. Soulmark. He read the caption under the picture, even though the words seemed far away.

“Packing the last few boxes before I move and I found this outfit! Call me Dr. Hottie McBootypants!” That was what the caption said, and what an outfit it was. It was a nurse outfit, but the sort of sexy short skirt affair that no real nurse would wear, all white with red trim and a Circle Healer’s torque symbol on the chest. But Kitten Mage unbuttoned most of the top of the nurse dress to expose his chest, and there, right above his heart, was the terribly familiar curve of a blue cat’s tail and hind legs.

His soulmark. Fenris’s soulmark was on Little_Kitten_Mage. They were soulmates.

Was the universe trying to hint at this revelation earlier, Fenris wondered hysterically as his eyes greedily traced the soulmark in front of him. Carver and his Felix, Evelyn and their neighbor across the street, and now him. But he was not ready! He was not ready for this!

“Fenris? Look, I know I tease a lot, but it's a nice picture. You’ve got good taste, so- are you shaking?” Varric could not disguise the worry in his voice, which unseated Fenris even more.

“That’s my mark.” Fenris said, leaning over to point at the blue lines on Kitten Mage’s chest. “My soulmark.”

“Nug shit.” Varric breathed.

“I mean it.” Fenris protested. “That is my mark!” His mark, on an attractive model and mage and it was his! Fenris was not particularly devout, but he thanked the Maker that he was matched with someone he was attracted to. It could be far, far worse. At least he felt attraction towards his soulmate. One of the greatest obstacles he faced in his quest to reclaim his body and sexuality was destroyed by one simple picture.

“I’m taking you to Antiva City. Luck like yours, we’ll clean out the dealers.” Varric muttered. “Right. So, you want to get in touch with this…. Ser Cums a Lot?”

“His screen persona is “Little Kitten Mage,” Varric. He comes up with these absurd joke names on his own.” Fenris said. That particular nickname was under a portrait where his soulmate’s cock (his soulmate’s cock!) was peeking out from beneath a pair of lacy small clothes.

“Fine. Kitten Mage. We get in touch with him, arrange a meeting, you two go sail off into the sunset and raise a broody batch of babies together.” Varric said easily as he dug into his breakfast. “Simple. Traditional. A bit of a surprise, but it’s nice if you like that sort of thing. Carver and his little soulmate want to go on some grand adventure together, like a weird nerd adventure honeymoon. You could do that, tour the Orlesian wine country together.”

“No.” Fenris said. A honeymoon was the last thing on Fenris’s mind. He had to meet his soulmate first, and that meant contacting him. Would Kitten Mage believe a stranger’s word? Fenris wouldn’t. He could barely believe it now. But if he went through the proper channels, if he contacted soulmark matching agency, then it would be legitimate. Believable.

“I’ll go to an agency.” Fenris decided. “It may take more time, but it will be documented. There will be paperwork.”

“I’ll find someone for you. Sebastian can be your Chantry representative, make it all official.” Varric said, as if it was simple. As if Fenris’s world had not just turned itself over and the earth was not what it once was.

“Yes.” Fenris agreed weakly.

“And you’ll need a sponsor, since you’re not a citizen of Kirkwall yet.” Varric added before taking a sip of his coffee.

“Aveline believes I will be ready by year’s end. I’m literate enough.” Fenris replied. He was certain he could pass the citizenship tests, especially with Meredith Stannard, the former Knight Commander of Kirkwall’s Templar forces, currently awaiting trial on charges of corruption. Though Templars were primarily supposed to track down rogue mages, the immigration status of mages also fell under their jurisdiction. Stannard often flexed her powers, and immigration into Kirkwall ground to a half under her time as Knight Commander. Fenris’s papers were wasting away in some filing cabinet somewhere, and he was neither a full citizen or a visitor on a guest passport. Apparently Varric and Hawke (with some help from Carver, of all people) filed him as a refugee. But Fenris wanted more. He wanted to be more than the victim Danarius tried to mold him into.

Becoming literate, becoming educated, finding work, gaining citizenship, finding his soulmate- all of it proved that he was not the tamed beast Danarius thought Fenris was.

“You’re more literate than most, Fenris. You could get work as a translator or interpreter, if Isabela ever lets you out from behind her bar. Or my editor, if you’re interested.” Varric grumbled. Varric often asked if Fenris would leave Isabela’s bar and work as one of his editors, an offer Fenris always refused. Varric would be the worst of clients, sending manuscripts whenever he pleased, calling at two in the morning to pitch an idea for a novel- Fenris would not take the job, no matter what Varric offered.

“How long will the paperwork take, Varric?” Fenris asked, ignoring Varric’s suggestive smirk.

“If we can get the ball rolling, the paperwork can go in and match you up through the system. So about two months, if we’re lucky. Then you can do whatever it is you want with the information.” Varric replied. He took out his phone and began to scroll through something, but Fenris’s attention was once again grabbed by Kitten Mage’s picture and soulmark. Pale skin, golden hair, freckles dotting the expanse of his chest like a star map, and then there was the blue curve of the cat tail and hind legs over his heart. Fenris touched his own mark, burning warm through the thin fabric of his dark shirt. 

“Yes. Thank you, Varric.” Fenris mumbled. Soulmark. Soulmate. Thank the Maker (and any other gods) that Fenris could feel something for this man. Little_Kitten_Mage. He was not ruined, he could feel attraction for his soulmate and he could learn to love him in time.

“No problem. Finish your coffee, and we can get started.” Varric declared, and that was that.

-

Later that night, Fenris sat in front of his laptop and glared drunkenly at the screen. Perhaps it was a bad idea to accept the bottle of wine from Varric, who wanted to celebrate him finding his soulmate. Then Isabela let him take a bottle of Antivan rum with him after work. Then Evelyn knocked on his apartment door and handed Fenris yet another bottle of wine to thank him for his help carrying the boxes upstairs. And perhaps it was a bad idea for Fenris to sample from all the gifts, but it was quite the bounty and it would have been rude to simply leave it closed. So now he stared at his computer, and he stared at Kitten Mage’s stupid blog and his stupid soulmark and this particularly stupid and wonderful picture of Kitten Mage’s pert ass in black and white, and Fenris wondered about everything.

An email. He would send an email. He would explain everything to Kitten Mage: the soulmark, his worries, not being good enough for a relationship, for his soulmate. He would ask him to wait, and that he would be ready soon. When I am a citizen, when I am no longer afraid of ghosts, when I can say I do not fear magic and mean it, Fenris thought. Then he would be ready. His hands hovered over the keyboard, but he could type nothing. Say nothing. Instead he returned to Kitten Mage’s blog and stared at the latest post.

It was not a picture or .gif, but a short video. Fenris eagerly clicked it and watched with eager eyes as Kitten Mage, his soulmate, began to speak.

He was a dark silhouette against a window, and he sat in a chair, legs casually propped up in front of him. His hair covered his face, but there was enough light to make out the scattering of golden hair and freckles on his body. His soulmark was clearly visible, blue and perfect. Fenris could hardly breathe as he watched Kitten Mage’s chest rise and fall with every breath. But then he spoke, and that was like a small miracle in itself.

“So I was a right idiot and fucked up, darlings.” Kitten Mage declared, voice bold and brassy, yet still sultry. Fenris felt blood rush to his ears as he thought of what he wanted that voice to say to him- hello, Fenris. How was your day, Fenris? I love you, Fenris.

“Didn’t notice until a fan pointed it out, but I seem to have displayed my soul mark for the world to see.” Kitten Mage drawled. “Whoops.” There was a heavy sigh, and Kitten Mage crossed his long legs. The silhouette of the legs diverted Fenris’s attention from the mark for a moment, and then Kitten Mage was talking again.

“I hate the idea of soulmates, really. Fate and destiny and all that. I’d like a choice, you know!” Kitten Mage complained. “I mean, I’m a romantic, I know, but free will is important! And I’ve had wonderful relationships that don’t require a mark to say they’re good.” There was another sigh, and Kitten Mage seemed to drop his head towards his chest.

“Or maybe I just don’t want to admit that I’m probably too fucked up for a soulmate. I mean, they haven’t come and tracked me down, they probably don’t want me anyways- ugh. Fucking wine.” Kitten Mage laughed, a sad, lonely sound. He lifted a hand, black against the pale light of the window, and held up a thin necked wine bottle.

“I should stick to ale, wine goes to my head. But it’s my last week in Amaranthine and I thought I should celebrate. Don’t try and stalk me, darlings, I won’t be in this city for long! ’ve gotten enough messages claiming one of you is my soulmate!” Kitten Mage said, his voice taking on a coy tone once again. “But I wanted to give you an update on my life. I’m living out of a suitcase and all my furniture is going to the next tenants. I’m going to miss this window and the lighting. I’m sure you all will miss it too. But there will be a bit of a hiatus as I move into my new place and settle in. I hope you understand!”

Kitten Mage stretched his arms over his head, light and shadow once again playing over his lean torso. “But I digress. Thank you for following me and my photography. You are all so sweet, and sleep tight, darlings! I’ll be back with more pictures soon!”

The video ended there, and Fenris sat back on his bed, head against the wall, and sighed. Unwelcome. A soulmate was unwelcome in Kitten Mage’s world. Fenris sighed. He would not send a message. He would send nothing. Fenris closed his laptop and put it on his bedside table before he curled onto his side and shut his eyes. He would sleep off the alcohol and try to get over his disappointment. Unwanted. He was unwanted.

But Fenris had a strange dream. He woke on a bed of Warden blue silk, Kitten Mage’s voice echoing in his ears as his hands ran over Fenris’s torso. His fingertips traced his tattoos before his palm settled onto his chest, over his heart. Over his soulmark.

“I’ve been here for so long.” Kitten Mage whispered, breath hot on Fenris’s ear. “And you never looked for me.”

“I’m not ready.” Fenris replied. “I’m not ready.” He couldn’t drop everything and just become what his soulmate needed. He needed time, and Kitten Mage didn’t want him anyhow. Or did he? Fenris thought of what Kitten Mage said in the video. Free will. Choices. That was what Fenris wanted, more than a soulmate. He could admit that in his dream. He wanted a choice, and he wanted to choose his soulmate.

He wanted the chance to choose.

“If you want me, come and find me.’ Kitten Mage replied, whispering into Fenris’s ear. “Find me and convince me that I’m wrong about soulmates. Prove it.”

Fenris woke up in his own bed, the sun in his eyes and his body covered in sweat. But he turned his head towards the window and smiled. Kitten Mage might not care for soulmates, but Fenris would prove himself. He would convince his soulmate that they could be great together. 

Fenris stumbled out of bed, ready to face the day and the future.


	2. Chapter 2

Fenris was busy filling out paperwork when Isabela called him. He was grateful for the chance to do something other than sit on his bed and fill out his citizenship forms. At least Varric submitted the soulmate information with a reputable agency- a favor for a favor, Varric said. Fenris did not want to think about the favor Varric would want to cash in. So he listened to Isabela chatter on the phone as he sat in his sweatpants and tank top and ate a slice of pizza.

“Fenris, there’s a party Friday night. A friend of mine is moving into town, you should come!” Isabela shouted into the phone. Her voice was barely audible over the sounds of people shouting, loud music, and laughter. She was working at her bar, obviously, and after a door slammed the music and raucous crowd noise was muffled.

“Sorry, busy night. Who knew the live music would be so popular?” Isabela laughed. “But you heard me, right?”

“A party on Friday. I may be busy.” Fenris said dryly. “I work that night. You make my schedule, if you recall.” Isabela always drew up his schedule, and he was her favorite bartender. At least that was what she claimed. 

“I can give you the night off so you can join in.” Isabela offered, and Fenris considered it. Show up early, drink a bit, walk home. It seemed reasonable enough. He could do with a good excuse to drink, and it was Isabela’s friend. Isabela was a good friend, and he should treat her friends well.

“Don’t make me clean up that night, and I’ll go.” Fenris replied. Isabela chuckled, and Fenris felt himself smiling at the sound.

“Done! I’ll see you tomorrow, handsome.” Isabela said, and he was certain she was smiling before she hung up on him. Fenris chuckled and returned to his papers, adding Isabela and her contact information as his boss, and Garrett Hawke as a character witness. Citizenship. Fenris let the word roll about in his mind. It had a nice ring to it.

-

“So how’s the fancy porn, Fenris?” Hawke asked over a beer. Fenris rolled his eyes and glanced around the bar. Hawke was the only one sitting at the bar, and no one was coming up for orders, so he placed his elbows on top of the dark walnut bar top and settled in for a long talk.

“Talking with Varric, I see.” Fenris said. Carver would have never mentioned Kitten Mage, especially to his brother. Despite his fraternity brother appearance, Carver was always a bit of a prude. His older brother, on the other hand….

“Yeah. He even shared the blog. Damn, your soulmate’s got some legs!” Hawke wiggled his eyebrows to emphasize his statement. “I’d be jealous, but I really like tits so… well, I’ll just be a little jealous.”

“How generous of you.” Fenris retorted. He prayed that his neighbor across the street would drop in as he usually did on Wednesday evenings, if only to save him from Hawke’s leering and prying.

“Bit of a clothes horse, isn’t he? I mean, did you see all those small clothes? All that lace and silk?” Hawke pretended to swoon, then took a gulp of his beer. Froth clung to his dark mustache.

“Yes, Hawke. I have.” Fenris recited. He had a collection of his favorites in a folder: the mint green, the dark blue, the burgundy, the sky blue, the peach. They were all dainty and beautiful, and perfect against Kitten Mage’s freckled skin.

“You’re not going to be the jealous type, are you?” Hawke asked suddenly. “Because I am loyal to my girls but I’m pretty fond of looking at everything out there.”

“How are Merrill and Isabela?” Fenris asked, desperate to change the subject. Hawke smiled, a real smile with warm eyes and sappy grin, and Fenris settled in for a long speech about Hawke’s partners. They were not soulmates. Isabela refused to talk about hers, Merrill’s died a long time ago, and Hawke was one of the few people in the world with no connection. But the three found each other and found a comfortable rhythm of their own. Isabela came and went as she chose, but her heart was given to Merrill and Hawke. They were good together, three souls united outside of marks. Fenris admired their connection and commitment. So he smiled as Hawke rambled about his ladies, and nodded when appropriate.

“-And Isabela is teaching Merrill to cheat at cards, but Merrill can’t even lie convincingly! It’s so precious-” Hawke’s rambling was interrupted when the door to the bar swung open and Fenris’s Wednesday regular stumbled in. He took a seat at the bar and stared at his wrist, as he usually did. Fenris sighed.

“Excuse me, Hawke, I need to work now-”

“Don’t worry, I think your newcomer and I might have a little chat!” Hawke said cheerfully, and he rose out of his seat before settling down in the one next to Fenris’s across the street neighbor.

“Hey, Cullen! How’s it going? Harass any more mages, lately?” Hawke asked with a glee that Sebastian would classify as unholy. Fenris’s neighbor glanced over at Hawke and groaned before looking at Fenris pleadingly. 

“I’ll have-”

“Dark stout, 20 ounces. Keep tab open.” Fenris recited. “Sorry about Hawke, he’s... friendly.”

“I am aware.” Cullen replied, and Hawke managed to look offended by Fenris’s remark. 

“Fenris! I’m your friend! And your character reference!” Hawke said, hand over his heart in mock indignation. Fenris rolled his eyes and served Cullen his beer. The man took it and began to drink. Fenris noted that he had dark circles under his brown eyes, as if he had not slept well in some time. Hawke was also observing Cullen.

“You look like death warmed over. Need help at headquarters? I can bully Carver into taking an extra shift.” Hawke offered, lowering his voice from booming to a normal person’s conversational volume. Cullen just shook his head.

“He’s doing enough. I let him have the day off anyways.” Cullen replied. “It’s been a rough few months.”

“Yeah, your boss trying to overthrow the Viscount, charges of human trafficking involving her and the Grand Cleric, money laundering, selling lyrium- pretty crazy shit.” Hawke said cheerfully, and Fenris let himself nod in agreement. If anyone had an impossible task weighing on his shoulders, it would be Cullen. He had never really talked to his neighbor until tonight, but Carver talked about his boss often enough. The newly appointed Knight Commander of Kirkwall’s Templar Order had to restore the entire organization’s reputation after the depths of Meredith’s corruption were revealed to the public by a very intrepid, obnoxious, charismatic reporter.

“You could have shared your sources with me.” Cullen said softly. “I needed proof of Meredith’s controlling tendencies and you had it, Hawke.”

“Would anyone have believed it? Took me years to get all that dirt.” Hawke sighed and patted Cullen’s back. “You’ll do fine now.”

“Here’s to hoping.” Cullen replied, and he downed his drink. “Another, please.”

“As much as I appreciate your patronage, I do hope you aren’t drowning your troubles in alcohol.” Fenris said dryly. “It isn’t healthy. I would know.”

“Thank you for your concern. I’ll be fine.” Cullen mumbled. He drank his beer silently when it was offered to him, and Hawke drank his while talking. Fenris stood across the bar and waited for another customer to arrive. Wednesday was always a slow day.

“So, uh, Carver says everyone’s had to go to therapy. Everyone who isn’t in jail, that is.” Hawke said, and he held up his hands in a placating gesture when Cullen glared at him. “Relax! This is off the record, it won't show up in any of my articles.” Fenris believed it when Hawke said it. Hawke was a loudmouth, but he never told tales. It was why he was such a trusted journalist. He had a way with words and an honesty about his person that could not be denied.

“Yes.” Cullen sighed. “Therapy. Lots of it. Carver’s got a nice one, but I have this ex-Seeker. Cassandra Pentaghast. She has this way of digging the truth out of you.” Cullen shuddered, and Fenris nearly reached out to pat the man’s shoulder. He filled up a 16 ounce glass with an Ostwick apricot beer and took a sip. At least Isabela wasn’t in to scold him for taking a sip.

“Rough.” Hawke lifted his glass towards Cullen. “Take care of yourself, you’re alright for a Templar asshole.”

“You’re alright for an unregistered mage, Hawke.” Cullen said with a weak smile before returning his attention to his drink. He glanced up at Fenris.

“You’re rather familiar. Have we met somewhere?” Cullen asked politely.

“You live in the apartment across the street from mine.” Fenris said automatically. “I see you drink coffee on your balcony on weekends.”

“Ah. And you know Hawke how?” Cullen asked, attempting polite conversation.

“He helped me settle into Kirkwall when I left Tevinter.” Fenris said. “I’m also a friend of Carver Hawke.”

“Oh. Are you Fenris, then? He said you approved of him going on a date with a Tevinter magister.” Cullen said. He peered up at Fenris with some curiosity, as if he was trying to figure out what brought Fenris here to Kirkwall and if he had magic himself.

“I am Fenris. I do not approve or disapprove of him finding his soulmate. I merely said he should approach with caution.” Fenris shrugged, trying to appear casual and unruffled by the staring. “And he is not a Magister, merely an Altus. A weak mage, at that.”

“It is dangerous.” Cullen said, as if reciting some ancient text. “A mage soulmate.”

“Perhaps. But I am sure Carver can handle himself.” Fenris replied, his mind full of his own soulmate. Kitten Mage never made his magic a secret. He was as open about his magic as he was about his body. Fenris wondered how dangerous he would be, how much of a threat. He is not Danarius, do not let one wicked man taint what is good in the world, Fenris told himself.

“Awww, speaking of Carver, my baby bro sent me a picture! He never does that!” Hawke crooned, staring at his phone. It buzzed again before he could open the file, and again and again in rapid succession. Fenris, ever curious, peered over to see what Hawke was looking at.

“Picture sent from Lil’ Carver.”

“HOLY SHIT. Do NOT open that!”

“I’m fucking serious”

“I will cut you.”

“Garrett I will murder you and resurrect you and kill you again! I swear 2 the Maker I will!”

“MERRILL OWES ME! SHE WOULD DO THAT FOR ME!!!”

“Please don’t look! Just delete it!”

Fenris stopped looking to take a sip of his beer, and Hawke clearly opened the file to look at the picture. He started shrieking.

“Noooo! Fuck no!” Hawke yelled. “Carver you sick fuck! Ewwwww!”

“He told you not to look.” Fenris said. Typical Hawke.

“Fuck I feel filthy. I haven’t seen his dick since he was like five and I helped Mum bathe him and Bethy!” Hawke groaned.

“He certainly has grown since he was five.” Fenris remarked dryly, too curious to let dick pics lie. Cullen carefully kept his eyes trained to the ceiling, a bright pink flush trailing up his neck and onto his cheeks.

Carver had a nice dick. He must have taken a look at Kitten Mage’s blog, because the angles were decent and lighting better than “fluorescent bathroom light bulb.” It was sexy, all toned abs and half hard cock, more thick than long and tilted slightly right. Good work, Carver, Fenris thought. Very impressive.

No wonder Hawke was disturbed.

“He’s the baby of the family! Carver can’t send out dick pics!” Hawke blubbered. “It’s just- just no!” Hawke immediately set to texting someone (either Varric or Isabela) about this latest distressing incident, and Fenris just poured him another beer.

“This was… interesting.” Cullen said politely. He rubbed his left thumb over the green soulmark wrapped around his right wrist, obviously a nervous tic. Fenris let himself chuckle as Hawke had a small crisis in his bar. Such moments were rare, such moments were fleeting, but they were to be treasured for their rarity.

“I found it entertaining.” Fenris informed Cullen. “We have a three beer limit here, but a Rivaini food truck should stop by in an hour so you can eat something and sober up.” And while Hawke cried to Varric and Cullen drank his beer, Fenris texted Carver under the walnut countertop.

“I see my fancy porn helped you.” He typed out. A minute later Carver replied.

“Fuck off.”

-

Fenris stood in front of his closet and tried to pick out what to wear for an evening out with friends. His work uniform, a black dress shirt and dark wash jeans, was neatly folded on a hanger. No, he would not wear that. Isabela would make him work if he showed up at her bar wearing that. He pulled out another pair of jeans, a little more faded and worn down, and pulled them over his cotton smalls. He grabbed an olive green cotton shirt and a worn down leather jacket before slipping his wallet, keys, and phone into his pockets. He put on a pair of flip flops and left his apartment, locking the door behind him.

Isabela’s bar was lively. She brought in the part timers, an elf girl named Sera and her girlfriend. Sera was good with people, quick with a joke and a smile, and Dagna was the one who actually remembered and filled the orders. At least, the orders she could reach.

“Do you need extra hands tonight?” Fenris asked as he eyed the crowd in the corner anxiously. They were sitting around a table, and Fenris saw Isabela’s wild hair and heard Hawke’s laugh. Too many people, too crowded-

“Oh, no! We’re fine here! Right, Sera?” Dagna said politely.

“If you tip we’ll get you the top shelf goods, eh Fenny?” Sera teased, pointing to a bottle of wine Isabela placed on the highest shelf. Fenris rolled his eyes. It wasn’t even a good vintage. Isabela just liked the label, a lady wearing an octopus for a hat.

“Nothing right now. Thank you.” Fenris said, and he made his way through the crowd to reach the table in the back corner. It was hard to see everything through the crush of bodies, but there was a glimpse of Merrill in her bright green jacket, Aveline towering over the table, face as red as her hair, there was the sound of Sebastian’s surprised laughter, and then-

“Fenris! So good of you to make it!” Isabela exclaimed, tossing her arm over Fenris’s shoulders and bringing him to the table. “May I introduce my friend, Anders?” She gestured grandly at a man sitting at the table, flanked by Hawke and Varric. Fenris stared at him, and something within him stirred with interest.

He was tall, at least as tall as Hawke, Fenris estimated, and thin under baggy dark blue nursing scrubs. His skin was fair and freckled, and his hair golden. Fenris was certain now, seeing Kitten Mage and now Anders, that he had a type. Tall, thin, and blond. But it was Anders’s face that Fenris was captivated by. Thin of body, thin of face, but Anders’s eyes were wide and golden. His nose was long, his cheeks gaunt, and even his dark scruff could not hide the sharpness of his jaw. He was all angles, like some scrawny scarecrow man, but there was a strange beauty to his form.

“Anders, this is Fenris. He’s an asshole but we love him.” Hawke said cheerfully. “He’s great when he’s drunk, starts cursing and reciting poetry in Vint and Qunlat.”

“You’re an obnoxious show off and you cheat at cards, Hawke.” Fenris retorted. Anders started laughing, a bright, happy sound that made Fenris’s heart flutter, and when he stopped laughing he smiled at Fenris.

“You, I like.” Anders declared, and that seemed to be it. Fenris fell into the group and joined the table, drinking his wine and letting the conversation roll over him. He listened to Anders as he explained why he moved to the city. He was transferred from a Warden clinic in Ferelden to open one in Kirkwall. He was a healer, a mage healer. Questions and ideas floated through Fenris’s head, but he listened to Anders speak.

“Warden Commander let me keep my cat, and I know a few people here. It isn’t so bad.” Anders said. “Friend of a friend set up my apartment, and she’s got a cat too so she knew how to fix up a cat corner for Pounce.”

“Where’s your apartment?” Merrill asked. “The city was so big when I came here, I always got lost! It’s how I found Isabela.”

“I’m a few streets up, High Street Apartments.” Anders replied. Fenris knew the apartments well. It was his complex. And he had helped his neighbor move in a friend of a friend, and it was just too much of a coincidence.

“So you’re my neighbor.” Fenris announced. “In room 326. I helped Evelyn carry your boxes up the stairs.” They were surprisingly light boxes. He didn’t know what Anders had packed. Would he need more help moving in? Perhaps, if he did, Fenris could volunteer and then he could ask Anders for his help.

“Ah, thank you.” Anders grinned and tapped his glass against Fenris’s. “We’ll have to be very neighborly now. We can trade disgusting casseroles and swap gossip about the neighbors.” They both took a drink. Anders drank his pale ale and Fenris sipped on red wine.

“Don’t be rude to him, Fenris.” Aveline warned. “You’re always scare off your neighbors.”

“I may not be friendly, but I am not rude.” Fenris replied. Evelyn did not think he was rude. Every time they saw each other in the halls she would wave and say hello. Fenris would of course say hello back. He even inquired after her cat, a mistake he did not care to repeat, for Evelyn pulled out pictures on her phone and crooned about “her baby’s toe beans.” But she was a kind neighbor, and he felt a bit guilty for not informing her that her soulmate lived right across the street. But he shouldn’t interfere. They would find each other if that was what they wanted.

“You can be as grumpy as you please, Fenris.” Anders assured him. “My best friends in the Wardens were all grumpy bastards, but we got on alright.” Anders smiled and Fenris forgot the snarky response that was forming in his head. Anders had a nice smile. So he drank with his friends and let himself enjoy the company of someone new.

“I’ll walk with you.” Fenris offered when Anders announced that he had to turn in for the evening. When Anders gave him a sort of quizzical look, Fenris shrugged his shoulders and tried to appear casual.

“You are new to the city, and it is safer to walk in a group than walk alone.” Fenris explained. “And we are neighbors.”

“Good enough for me.” Anders replied, and he shrugged a worn down, ragged jacket over his shoulders. The teal colored canvas was more patches than fabric, but somehow it was charming on Anders.

“Be nice, Fenris!” Hawke shouted as they said goodbye. “Don’t make this one cry!”

Fenris gave Hawke a lazy one finger salute and woven through the crowd. He could hear Anders following behind him. They exited to the cool night air and the hazy glow of the street lamps.

“So, uh, Isabela said you usually tend the bar?” Anders asked.

“Yes.” Fenris replied. “It is steady work, and I can manage most of the customers without resorting to violence.”

“Does that happen often? Fighting, I mean.” Anders seemed surprised, as if he didn’t think Fenris was the type to get into fights.

“Isabela runs a tight ship, but it can happen.” Fenris shrugged. “But I’m good at fighting. I was a bodyguard in Tevinter.” The less said about his time in Tevinter the better, but he wanted to ask Anders for his assistance with a small problem of his. He would have to be open and honest. This was good practice for his soulmate, Fenris told himself as he looked at Anders and the way the lamplight turned his red blonde hair gold.

“Ah.” Anders exhaled into the night air, a sound so soft it could have been mistaken for a passing breeze. After a moment he seemed to recover.

“Is that why everyone thinks you’re a bit of a dick? Because you’re an elf from Tevinter?” Anders asked, but his voice was strained. Wary. He’s expecting me to hate him, Fenris realized with startling clarity as he watched Anders hunch into himself and brace for a barrage of anger.

“No. I am abrasive. I also made Merrill cry the first time I met her.” Fenris confessed. “I was… suspicious of magic. Mages. I am trying to get over that fear.”

“Well, you probably saw the worst shit, if you’re a Vint.” Anders replied. “You know that healers can’t do blood magic, right? I don’t hold with it, so you don’t have to worry about me sneaking in and cutting you up for demon summoning or something.” They turned a corner and arrived on High Street. The apartment complex was close now, visible in the distance.

“Yes. I know.” Fenris sighed. “I… I confess that I offered to walk you back for another purpose.”

“Oh?” Anders smiled, a bit strained at the corners. “Nefarious purposes? Naughty ones?”

“My soulmate is a mage.” Fenris said in a rush. “We have not met, but I wish to get over my fear of magic before we do.”

“That’s… awfully considerate of you.” Anders said as they reached the apartment entrance. He swiped a key card and opened the door for Fenris.

“I will not let what one mage did to me in the past rule my life.” Fenris declared as they walked through the lobby and up the stairwell. “He is dead and his hold on me must die with him.”

“Poetic.” Anders said. “What do I have to do with it?”

“Nothing in particular.” Fenris decided. “I believe we should become better acquainted. Perhaps become friends. If I know more mages, let myself meet them and see they are not threats-”

“You should see a therapist.” Anders advised as they finally reached the third floor and their apartments. “But if you want to be friends, I’m open to that.”

Friendship with a mage. Before Kirkwall and Hawke, Fenris would have thought it impossible. But now things were different. He had Hawke, his sister Bethany, Merrill, and now Anders. He was getting better. He held out his hand to Anders.

“Friends.” Fenris said firmly. “If anyone gives you trouble, direct them to me.”

“Maker, you’re a strange one.” Anders chuckled as he shook Fenris’s hand. His hand was warm.

“Goodnight, Anders.” Fenris said.

“Goodnight, Fenris.” Anders replied. Right before Fenris shut the door, he heard Anders whisper something, something that Fenris could not forget.

“Your soulmate’s a lucky bastard.” He had said. Fenris sat on the edge of his bed and wondered what Anders meant.

-

Fenris took Anders’s suggestion seriously and found a counselor who specialized in magic abuse and recovery. Though the organization was Chantry based, he was pleased to see that many of the counselors operated outside of the Chantry. He was surprised at who his counselor was, though.

“I’m going to help you find a good fit with one of our counselors, Fenris. I can recommend several of my coworkers if you don’t think we’re a good match! I wouldn’t want to make our relationship as neighbors awkward for you.” Evelyn said cheerfully. They sat across from each other in two overstuffed armchairs. Evelyn had offered him tea as soon as he entered, which Fenris declined, and then she got down to business.

“So I saw in your paperwork that you want counseling with a mage. Is there any particular reason why?” Evelyn asked.

“I believe that facing my fear will lessen it.” Fenris confessed. “If I surround myself with mages, and see that they will not harm me-”

“You believe that it will help you overcome your fear of magic.” Evelyn said. She appeared to be sympathetic, and Fenris felt himself relaxing as she spoke.

“Yes.”

“I think I have someone for you in mind. He isn’t a mage but he’s from Tevinter. He’ll understand your situation far better than I ever could.” Evelyn said softly. “And if you ever need a mage to talk to, I’m either here in the office or at my apartment.” She gestured towards her door.

“I can sign you up for an appointment with him next week, and then we can come back in and just talk about what you’d like to get out of your sessions!” Evelyn explained, and the session continued. When it was over Fenris was tired, but he felt as if he had finally accomplished something.

He returned to his apartment to find Anders’s door open and a pile of grocery bags out in the hallway. Anders was nowhere to be seen, but he heard someone rustling through the apartment. Fenris approached the door and pushed it open.

“Anders? Are you well?” Fenris asked, even as he prepared for an attack. Was it a thief? A spy? An assassin? This wasn’t Tevinter, Fenris reminded himself. It was highly unlikely that an assassin would show up to kill a Warden healer.

“Fenris? That you? Fuck- hold on a second!” Anders called out dispelling all fear of assassins and thieves. A few moments later Anders appeared, his hair sticking in random clumps to his sweaty forehead.

“Sorry, I’m reorganizing the pantry. Re-organizing and restocking, really.” Anders bent down to pick up a bag overflowing with leafy green vegetables. Even wearing a ragged grey shirt and cut-off jeans, Anders was a sight to behold. Fenris was sure of it now. He was absolutely a leg man, and Anders had nice legs. It was a shame that he hid them under baggy scrubs.

“I see.” Fenris replied. “Do you need assistance?”

“I’d be glad for the help.” Anders said, his expression grateful and happy. Fenris picked up two of the bags, one full of bottles and cans, the other stuffed with different breads. He followed Anders into the apartment, and stopped to gape at what was inside.

It was as if a tornado tore the place apart. There were boxes scattered across the main room, boxes on the bistro table, bags of groceries and boxes of kitchen utensils stacked up on the counters- perhaps it was more apt to say an extremely organized tornado tore the apartment to shreds. A loud yowl came from one of the boxes, and a large orange cat clambered out of the box. The cat trotted over to Anders, purring so loudly it was as if a machine was on in the house.

“Fenris, this is Pounce. Pounce, our neighbor Fenris.” Anders gestured towards the cat and dumped his groceries on the counter. “Go ahead and leave the groceries on the counter. Thanks for the help.”

“You seem to be… settling.” Fenris said politely, and Anders let out an inelegant snort. His golden hair fell into his eyes. Fenris wondered how it would feel in his hands. Stop it, he told himself. This is a friend, stop lusting after a friend!

“Evelyn’s a dear, but the lighting was terrible with her set up. I moved everything around to catch the light better.” Anders said. He moved back to the hall and grabbed the last few bags in his arms before shutting the door behind him.

“Catch the light?” Fenris asked.

“Photography is a hobby of mine, so light is important to me.” Anders explained. “I traveled with my equipment. I was not going to risk it getting damaged in the mail.”

“Ah.” Fenris cleared his throat, because photography was forever tied to Kitten Mage in his mind. “I see.”

“If I bribe you with some home cooking, will you help me move some boxes around?” Anders asked, and he fluttered his eyelashes and smiled so happily that Fenris couldn’t help but laugh. He liked laughing with friends, and laughing with Anders was easy. Mages were people, Fenris thought, and mages could make him smile and laugh and feel like a person. Anders made him feel like a person.

“I am easily persuaded.” Fenris replied. “What do I move first?”

They moved boxes from the front room to Anders’s bedroom, then unpacked the boxes in the kitchen and the bags of groceries. When Anders was satisfied, he began to pull out vegetables and meat, spices and rice. As he cooked, he spoke to Fenris. It was domestic and pleasant.

“So, how goes the therapy?” Anders asked as he chopped up vegetables and started boiling water for the rice. Fenris leaned against a counter and watched as Anders worked. Cooking was not one of Fenris’s talents, but he enjoyed watching.

“Evelyn was my counselor. She assigned a new therapist to me, but offered to help with extra sessions if needed.” Fenris replied. “I feel that I am making progress.” He was speaking with Anders, a mage, and he felt no fear. Instead he watched Anders cook. He wondered if the comfortable feeling he had in this kitchen, with the cat sitting on the top of the fridge as Anders chopped vegetables. Fenris wondered if he would ever feel this comfortable around his soulmate. He held up this moment as a sign of what was possible. If he could feel this way around Anders, he could feel it for his soulmate.

“I’m glad.” Anders said with a smile, and his voice turned teasing and gentle all at once. “So what do you plan to do once you work through everything? Find your soulmate and live happily ever after?”

“I am not that naive. I submitted the paperwork to an agency. If we find each other I will be ready for whatever happens next.” Fenris said. “But as for what happens next, it depends on him.”

“How do you know he’s a man and a mage?” Anders asked. “It’s a lot of information to know about someone you’ve never met.”

“I saw my soul mark on him.” Fenris replied. “But anyone can send a message claiming to be a soulmate. So I submitted my paperwork with an agency. If he wishes to meet me, he can meet me. I will not hide.”

“That’s magnanimous. Very considerate.” Anders said. “Why did you decide to reach out to him first? Mages have to submit their paperwork to agencies. It’s Chantry policy. The mage submits the paperwork, and if they have a non-mage soulmate the soulmate gets to decide if they wish to contact them.”

“I was not given choices once. I would not take choices away from my soulmate.” Fenris replied, but his curiosity was awoken. “What of you and your soulmate, Anders?”

“Never contacted me.” Anders sighed. “It may be for the best. Not many people want a mage soul mate, so they probably took a look and decided ‘no thank you.’”

“You’re nice enough, Anders.” Fenris replied. “They’ll come around.” He could not imagine someone rejecting Anders. He was attractive and good natured. Who wouldn’t have Anders as a soulmate?

“You’re not as much of an ass as Hawke and the others said you were, Fenris.” Anders replied. “How do you feel about stir fry?”

Dinner was delicious. Fenris would have gladly carried more boxes if it meant another meal with Anders. Anders was witty and smart and rather silly, and he fed his cat bits of chicken from the meal. Anders spoke of his days with the Warden clinic, and all the magical mishaps he had to put to rights because his fellow Wardens would sling spells at each other. He pulled out stories from Fenris as well: his escape from Danarius when the man was assassinated by a rival Magister, finding Hawke and the others, finding his way and his place in the world- the words poured out, and Anders listened patiently. Few people knew how to listen, but Anders had that gift.

“Your soulmate is going to be a lucky man.” Anders said. “You’re a good man. Helpful too, if he needs boxes moved around.”

“Your soulmate will be lucky to have you. I have rarely eaten so well.” Fenris smiled before he stood up. “I will let you have the rest of your evening, but thank you for the meal.”

“Thank you for your help.” Anders replied. “Good night, Fenris.”

“Good night, Anders.” Fenris replied, and he returned to his apartment.

Later he scrolled through Kitten Mage’s blog and read a short description under a photo of Kitten Mage’s lovely feet encased in pretty, strappy high heels. His toenails were painted a pretty shade of pale blue.

“Unpacking in my new home! The views are great. I can catch a lot of light here.” Fenris smiled and turned off his bedside lamp, and he dreamed of his soulmate and light.

-

“Alright, Fenris. Spill.” Isabela demanded. It was quiet at the bar tonight. The customers were deep in their cups or outside on the patio to enjoy the sunset.

“Pardon?” Fenris only half heard Isabela, but he knew she was speaking to him. When he saw the smile on her face he knew he was in trouble.

“You live next to Anders and I haven’t heard any terrible stories of the two of you murdering each other. What are you two hiding?” Isabela asked, a smirk playing on her lips.

“Nothing, Isabela.” Fenris said. He poured Isabela a beer and handed over.

“Bullshit.” Isabela declared before taking a drink.

“You have such little faith in me.” Fenris pretended to be offended. He knew how difficult he could be at times, and he knew that Isabela tolerated his bullshit more than anyone else.

“Because I know you, asshole.” Isabela said fondly. “How is it that you two haven’t fought to the death over magic and mage rights?”

“Anders is passionate and we have disagreements, but he is sincere.” Fenris said. “He doesn’t push me.” Anders was pushy, but he also listened. Fenris knew that Anders was determined to show that magic was not a threat. They would stand out on their respective balconies in the morning and drink coffee together, and Fenris would swap stories of Tevinter for stories about the Wardens and magic. While he had his doubts about how dangerous magic could be, Fenris appreciated the effort. He appreciated that Anders tried to help him. Fenris liked Anders.

It helped that Anders was pretty.

“Oh, passionate.” Isabela’s smirk only grew wider. “I remember just how passionate Anders can be. Let me tell you, boy knows how to use his mouth.” The way her lips curved when she said mouth suggested the carnality of the act.

“You’ve slept with Anders.” Fenris stated.

“Ages ago. He was a great lay.” Isabela sighed. “Still miss the electricity trick. He refuses to tell me how he did it!”

“Probably magic.” Fenris said, but now his mind was full of Anders and sex. It was not as unpleasant a picture as he would have thought. Anders was pretty, and he had all of the physical traits Fenris found himself drawn to: blonde, tall, willowy, long legs-

“Mmm, probably.” Isabela agreed. “He really was a good lay.”

“I’d rather not talk about Anders and sex.” Fenris muttered before returning to his work. He shouldn’t be thinking about his neighbor this way- soulmate, you have a soul mate, and he’s lovely and sweet and silly and don’t betray him because you have someone similar nearby!

They were similar, weren’t they? Their appearances and sense of humor lined up closely, and there were other things too, Fenris realized. A shared interest in photography, their mage-hood, their love of all things feline. Hadn’t Kitten_Mage recently moved to a new city? Wasn’t Anders stationed at Amaranthine? No, Fenris told himself. This was ridiculous. The odds of Anders and Kitten_Mage being the same person were astronomically low.

It couldn’t be so. But once the thought burrowed its way into Fenris’s mind, it stayed there. It lurked in the quiet moments in the bar, in those silent walks back to his apartment, those morning conversations with Anders, whenever he looked at Kitten_Mage’s blog and compared those stocking-clad legs to Anders’s. Then there were the dreams, the dreams where his soulmate, Kitten_Mage, wore his favorite outfits (the burgundy lace chemise, the emerald green silk corset, the black cat thigh highs and nothing else). Kitten_Mage beckoned him, sat on his lap, teased and tormented him, and when he showed his face-

When he showed his face, it was Anders.

Fenris brought up his dreams to his therapist (an ex-soldier from Tevinter). It should have been humiliating, but Cremisius Aclassi never judged Fenris for his questions or ramblings. Krem listened and discussed everything Fenris said patiently, missing no details before assigning therapy exercises like a drill sergeant. But with these sex dreams, Krem theorized that Fenris’s attraction to Anders was mixed together with his desire to find his soulmate. Rather than deal with the conflict right away, Krem suggested waiting for the results of his soulmate match. No need to rush into things, Krem said. You should take your time. Anders will still be around if you do not wish to form a connection with your soulmate.

Fenris was well and truly frustrated by his… well, his sexual frustration. Reclaiming his body and discovering his libido was not easy. He never expected it to be. But Fenris had hoped he would bypass teenage lust entirely. He had had sex before. He had had sex many, many times! But sometimes, in the cold mornings, Fenris wondered if it would be different with a soulmate. And sometimes he wondered if it would be different with Anders. Fenris was brooding over these thoughts when when he went down to the mailroom to check his box. As he was approaching from around the corner he heard Anders cry out.

“Andraste’s Knickerweasels!” He cursed, voice echoing in the mail room.

“Anders?” Fenris called out before peeking his head inside. Anders was not dressed for work. Fenris hesitated to call him dressed for anything. He was wearing pajama pants, his nose and eyes red, and his golden hair limp and hanging loose. He looked unwell.

“Are you well?” Fenris asked, and he felt the urge to escort Anders back to his apartment and force feed him medicine and tea until he recovered.

“Caught a flu bug that was going around the clinic. They won’t let me back to work until I’m completely better.” Anders sniffed, reached into the pocket of his tatty robe, and blew into a tissue. He held up a stack of mail. 

“So I thought I’d pick up my mail, but I dropped everything and when I picked it up I got a papercut.” Anders sighed. “It’s one of those days.”

“I see.” Fenris cleared his throat and shuffled around Anders to open his mailbox. “I am no cook, but I can brew some tea and order chicken soup for you.”

“That’s sweet of you, Fenris.” Anders said, and he smiled. Even when he was sick and looked utterly disgusting Fenris’s heart felt fluttery when Anders smiled. He unlocked his mailbox and started to go through his mail. Junk mail, catalogue for a grocery store, invitation to a Chantry dinner from Sebastian, and a large envelope in a thick paper. Fenris carefully looked over the sender’s address, and nearly dropped the envelope.

It was the soulmatching agency. Fenris stared at the envelope and felt confusion and worry and fear rush over him. Soulmate. They had found his soulmate and now he would know Kitten_Mage’s name, he would know how to contact him, he would have proof, just like Kitten_Mage would have proof that he existed and-

“Fenris?” Anders asked. “Are you okay?”

“Yes.” Fenris managed to croak out. “I’m fine. I just received my soulmate match.”

“Oh.” Anders murmured after a moment of silence. “I see.”

“I’m afraid.” Fenris said. “I don’t know what comes next.” He was excited, he was worried, he was afraid. And then there was Anders. Anders, who was warm and friendly and clearly cared for him and he was flesh and blood, not an image on his screen.

“You can come up to my apartment. Open it up there.” Anders offered.

“I would like that.” Fenris confessed. “If you wouldn’t mind.”

“What are friends for?” Anders said. The walk up to Anders’s apartment was over quickly, and soon Fenris was sitting on the couch next to Anders, mail on the coffee table and a mug of tea in his hands. Anders sat next to him, and Pounce the cat lazily swatted his tail against Fenris’s neck. Fenris set the mug down on the table and lifted the envelope from the top of the pile.

“Go ahead.” Anders encouraged him. “You can do this.” Fenris took a deep breath and slipped his finger under the seam of the envelope. He began to read the enclosed documents. Mage, currently residing in Kirkwall, Frederik Anderson- Fenris flipped the page for further information, and a small photo of his soulmate dropped out of the papers. The face was younger, less lined and certainly less cheerful (as if he was lined up for a mugshot and not a soulmate headshot), but it was still unmistakably Anders’s face. Fenris dropped the documents on the table.

“You’re Kitten_Mage.” Fenris blurted out as the two of them stared at the photography on the coffee table.

“Fuck.” Anders wheezed out, as if someone had kicked all the air out of his lungs. Fenris felt much the same way. Anders. Kitten_Mage. It had seemed so impossible, but there it was. They were the same person. Fenris clearly had a type- Anders. Kitten_Mage. His soulmate.

“I had no idea I was so unpalatable a soulmate.” Fenris groused, but he still felt a little numb. He hadn’t prepared for the possibility that someone he knew was his soulmate- they drank coffee together for weeks! They argued over the merits of media that romanticized Templar and Mage relationships. Fenris helped Anders find a vet for his cat! They had weeks together and they didn’t know!

“It’s not that!” Anders exclaimed. “I just- you’re handsome and sarcastic and so intelligent, you escaped slavery and have made yourself into this amazing person, Fenris, and I’m a weird mage who takes photos of himself and sings to his cat!” Fenris couldn’t tell if the sniffling was from Anders’s illness or if he was crying.

“Sings off-key to his cat.” Fenris couldn’t help but add.

“Exactly!” Anders cried. “You’re proving my point!”

“Which is?” Fenris asked. His heart was still fluttering, but he felt calmer now. Anders was his soulmate. Anders, who was kind to him, who listened and promised to help him conquer his fears. Anders, who had a lovely smile. Kitten_Mage seemed to be an impossible soulmate, so distant and beautiful that Fenris could never reach him. But Anders?

Anders was a man who Fenris would have by his side.

“You’re amazing and I’m a crazy cat man!” Anders said, as if it was obvious. Fenris smiled and reached for Anders’s hand.

“I’m a lonely, bitter person who drinks away his sorrows and is still struggling with literacy.” Fenris said firmly. “And you’re a cheerful healer who loves animals and cooks gourmet meals. I’m getting the better end of the deal.”

“I am not dressed properly for this.” Anders muttered.

“I like the cat stockings.” Fenris offered, and Anders lazily slapped at Fenris’s arm.

“I’m sicker than a mabari in Orlais.” Anders said firmly. “No dressup.” But when Anders scooted across the distance between them and hesitantly leaned against Fenris. Fenris allowed the contact. Anders was very warm.

“That is a shame. You have quite the collection.” Fenris was careful about his teasing, careful because a misstep could ruin what was fragile and new. But Anders leaned into him until his head rested on Fenris’s shoulder.

“I can’t believe you found my soft-core porn blog.” Anders complained, but there was no bite to the words. “I can’t believe any of this.”

“I think your photography is beautiful.” Fenris said. “You have a gift.”

“So you aren’t jealous?” Anders asked. Fenris considered the question, considered his feelings, and shook his head.

“No.” Fenris decided. “It is your hobby. You do not strike me as the type who would sleep with one of their fans.”

“You’re the exception. Though the sex will have to wait.” Anders sighed. “Fucking flu.” He snuggled into Fenris’s side, and Fenris let himself relax and wrap an arm around Anders’s shoulders. Comfortable. This was what Fenris had been looking for.

“I’ll nurse you back to health.” Fenris promised. “You’ll be taking photographs and having sex soon enough.”

“I’d like to use you as a model.” Anders mumbled. “I have this amazing corset, and the morning light would look so good on your skin.”

“I look forward to letting you see me in many future mornings, Anders.” Fenris said, and he closed his eyes and let himself be at peace.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I'm glad that so many people seemed to enjoy this short story! It makes me want to write a few other stories in this universe! Thank you for reading, this was a lot of fun to write! Much credit to the DA Weird Shit discord chat for inspiring me to write this short story!

**Author's Note:**

> Anders's goofy nicknames are not quite my creation, but the suggestions of the following people!
> 
> Ser Cums-a-lot (credit to TimeSorceror)  
> Apostitute (credit to Corza)  
> Dr. Hottie McBootypants (credit to therealnemo)
> 
> Thanks to them I had plenty of ideas to work with! Thank you!


End file.
